Me vs Everyone
by xHypnotizedx
Summary: Dakota just moved to a new town. A new school, new people. Things get a little sketchy when she starts hanging around a kid named John'O and his friends.
1. Some Sort of Gang

**One**

"Put your hands in the air and don't move " My heart dropped and I stopped dead in my tracks. I didn't recognize the voice, but I knew who it was. I swallowed fear and turned my head to slowly look up at the boy next to me. The one person I turned to when I needed something. The one person who would know what to do in a situation like this. His eyes mirrored mine. I had only ever seen that look once in my life. That look was utter fear. The two of us raised our arms above our heads and slowly turned around. I had a cop with a gun pointed at me and no good explanation as to why. Where did this go wrong? I wasn't always like this, I swear. The ropes just got a little tangled along the way.

I guess I should just start from the beginning.

My dad was an alcoholic. Well, Andy was anyway. I called him Andy because he wasn't my real dad. My real dad died when I was seven. So my mom remarried this screw up four years ago. He wasn't a screw up when they met, or when they got married. But he started drinking. He went to rehab last year and got better. He's been doing great. He hasn't been drinking and he hasn't relapsed. Yet.

My mom was pretty cool. She was a writer, and kind of a hippie I guess you could say. She was a vegan and she was so thin the two of us could share clothes. I liked her though. Her name was Claire. She had long light brown hair and blue eyes that matched mine. She was very pretty. And I'm not exactly sure what she saw in Andy, but she saw something. Andy was the reason we moved. We used to live in California, not even ten minutes away from the beach, but thanks to Andy's job we moved all the way across the country to some nowhere town in Ohio.

It was my first day as a sophomore at Falls High. I couldn't tell you exactly what emotion I was feeling that morning. I was nervous, I knew that much. Angry too. Angry at Andy for making us move to the place and angry for having to leave everyone I knew and start over here. But I got dressed and got in the car without a word, and without breakfast.

"Baby, it won't be so bad." My mom assured me on the way to school. That same voice she used on me when I was six and didn't want to get a shot. Soothing and reassuring an full of bull. "You might actually like it here."

I crossed my arms and stared out the window at the houses passing in a blur. I might like it here. Ha. I was dropped off at the front of the school and I slammed my mom's car door before she could even finish saying goodbye.

I stopped by my guidance office and they gave me my schedule and told me where my locker was. The secretary asked me if I wanted a map of the school. I told her I could manage.

Stares are always expected as the new kid. I walked into my first hour English class and nearly every head turned as if I were a sideshow freak at the circus. Come one, come all, see the freaky new kid from California. Honestly...

My teacher looked at the note I gave her, then told me to take a seat behind Garrett, as if I knew who he was. But like a puppy, the boy looked up at the sound of his name, then raised to fingers to show that he was in fact Garrett and I was to take the seat behind him. I took my seat and studied the back of his head. Shaggy, brown-red hair that almost touched the collar of his shirt, and a freckle on the back of his neck. I looked down and doodled in my notebook.

The bell rang and the girl next to me immediately attacked me with a too-happy-for-a-Wednesday-morning smile. "Hi I'm Heather. You're from California, right?" she chirped.

"Yeah," I nodded as I continued walking down the halls.

"I can tell," she smiled and continued to talk, "You look like it with your blonde hair and blue eyes. You're like wicked pretty."  
"Thanks," I smiled. "I'm Dakota, by the way."

Dakota. My parents named me after the state I was born in. North Dakota, 1991. Thank God I wasn't born in Massachusetts.

My 2nd hour class was study hall. Possibly the worst time for a study hall. Last hour was the best. You could finish homework, then just goof off. At the beginning of the day, all you could really do was nap, which I considered.

I took the seat I was told to, but receive less stares than before. A good sign. I looked around the room, and that's when I saw Him for the first time. He and I maintained eye contact for a few seconds before He finally turned away. I didn't forget Him though.

I got a text from my mom during my last class. Yes, my mom did insist on texting me. Probably part of some midlife crisis thing she's going through trying to fit in with teenagers.

Mom - I'm going to be a few minutes late to pick you up. Sorry.

Great. I couldn't wait till I could drive.

I was waiting around for my mom when I saw Him again. He was standing across the street, a cigarette in His mouth. We locked eyes again, and soon the friends He was standing with started staring too. He nodded, motioning me over to them. I walked across the street and slowly approached them. He stepped forward and a mix of cologne and cigarette smoke filled my lungs. He offered me one without even speaking. I shook my head and He put the box away.

"What's California like?"

He speaks.

"Sunny," I shrugged, confused, "It's pretty nice I guess."

"So why'd you move here?"

"Andy got transferred, so my mom and I moved with him."

"Who's Andy?"

"My step dad." I fired off answers like a robot. It was like I was hypnotized. Another kid stepped forward and I recognized him as Garrett from my English class.

"Ever been arrested?"

He elbowed the boy in the stomach without ever taking His eyes off me. I laughed lightly, and for the first time, He actually smiled.

"Are you guys in some sort of gang or something?" I asked nervously, no longer hypnotized by His eyes. The five of them smiled. He was the only one to actually laugh.

"Is that what we look like to you?"

They kind of did, the way they just stood around in a group, smoking. But then again, they didn't look scary enough to be a gang. They were all dressed pretty nicely. Maybe it was the smoking and the hostile looks. I didn't know how to answer.

"I like you, California," He smiled. I couldn't help but smile back.

"My name's Dakota," I told Him. He smiled and stuck His hand out.

"John." was all he said. Before I could get the names of the other kids my mom pulled up. I was kind of embarrassed and my face turned red. None of them seemed to care.

"Later California," John said as he and the rest of the guys started to walk away. I got in the car, still confused.

"Who were they?" my mom asked. I looked back at them

I couldn't answer.


	2. Cold Shoulder

**Two**

The next day in first hour, I saw Garrett. I knew he was one of the boys who was with John yesterday. He looked up at me when I took my seat, but he didn't say anything to me. Didn't even smile. It was him, wasn't it? I shook the thought from my head. Maybe he didn't remember. Heather sat down next to me and started a conversation. I tried to pay attention, but I was too hung up on the fact that Garrett didn't notice me. It shouldn't bother me this much. It isn't like we were friends or anything. I only talked to him once.

"...Totally try out, it would be so much fun "

Oh right. Heather was still talking.

"Huh?"

"Cheerleading. You should try out " she repeated. Of course she was a cheerleader. I should have guessed the first day.

"Cheerleading...yeah, I don't think so," I gave a weak smile. That wasn't exactly my thing. I hardly ever wore skirts. Or make up. To be honest, I'd rather be playing football than cheering for it.

"Really?" she pouted, "Oh. Well you'll still come to the games, right?"

"Yeah, definitely." I told her. Mrs. Whitman started talking, and I faced the front, staring at Garrett trying to burn a hole through his head. No such luck.

I hoped maybe John would say something in study hall. A smile, a wave, maybe a "Hey." But I got nothing. I took my seat and looked over at him. He was looking my way. Looking directly at me, actually. Not smiling, not blinking, just staring. I had to look away.

The day seemed to drag on and I couldn't wrap my mind around what had gone on. Had I dreamed even ever talking to him? The rest of the day was a blur.

But sure enough at the end of school, there he was across the street with his four other friends he was with yesterday. I didn't bother walking over. I just stood and waited. I could almost guarantee my mom was going to be late again. Just like yesterday, I looked over at John. He was staring right back at me. But I couldn't look away. I was drawn to him like a magnet. I never broke the stare. He nodded at me again, like yesterday. And like yesterday, I drifted across the street to join him.

"So now you want to talk to me?" I said, half joking. John smiled, a light smile, not an amused smile.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." he said.

"What was that all about?"

"Don't worry about it. I just..." He paused, thinking of something to say then shook his head, "It's probably a bad idea even now."

"Why?" I asked. Garrett opened his mouth to say something, but John spoke before he could. "Reasons."

I didn't know how to respond.

"Anyway, if you're gonna be around for a while you might as well know the rest of the guys." John said. I just nodded.

There were four of them, other than John. John O'Callaghan, or John'O as most knew him, was the apparent leader. John'O. First name, last initial, all one word. He was tall, I came up only to about his shoulder. John'O has long, messy hair that usually covered his eyes and the back of it touched the collar of his shirt. He was almost 18 years old and a senior this year.

Alex Gaskarth, John's second in command was 17 and had blonde hair that came down across his face over one eye. He always wore this grey hat, covering his hair, or most of it anyway. He was pretty tall, but nowhere near John. He was funny. Kept everyone laughing all the time. That's why everyone got along with Alex, whether you wanted to or not.

Garrett Nickelsen was the kid in my English class. Freshly 15 years old and followed John around like a stray puppy dog. He looked like a puppy too with his shaggy hair and his baby face. That's exactly what earned him his nickname. Garrett Nickelsen was the youngest out of all of them. They just called him Babynicko. He didn't mind it though. He looked up to John like a brother and John looked after him the same way. He tried to act tough, but he was really just a little kid at heart. He was cute. A puppy dog kind of cute.

Then there was Nick. Nick Santino had this crazy red hair that stuck up in all directions. He was shorter than John and Alex, just a little taller than Garrett. He was quiet, more shy than the rest of them too. But he was smart. He was only 16 but he knew more than most of the seniors I've ever met. Nick was one of the newest kids to start hanging around John's group. I called them a group only because I wasn't sure whether or not they were really a gang or not.  
Finally, there was Dougie. Dougie Poynter. That was the one kid I just couldn't figure out. He was 16 years old, and never once said a word. He never smiled either. He always seemed really detached. Really out of it. He wore long baggy shorts and T-shirts or Hoodies that swallowed his tiny frame. He had a nice bone structure to his face. He was really handsome. But one of the most mysterious kids I've ever met.

We all talked for a while. Just small talk. They asked about me, California, my mom, Andy. I began wondering where my mom even was.

"So if you're living with this Andy guy, where's your real dad?" A voice came from the back of the group and for the first time that day, Dougie spoke. John looked nervous as I opened my mouth to answer.

"Oh...he died when I was seven," I said quietly. All these years and it still hurt to talk about it.

"You miss him?" Dougie asked. I nodded. "Yeah, I still think about him a lot."

Dougie looked me straight in the eye. He had big deep blue eyes that I didn't want to pull away from. He looked me in the eye and just said one word. "Don't."

"Cut the crap, Doug." Alex told him. Dougie rolled his eyes, "No, she ought to know. Don't think about him. Don't wonder where he is. Ever."

"Dougie," John warned, but Dougie shrugged him off.

"Because I'll tell you where he is. He's rotting in the ground somewhere. He's not up in heaven in the clouds with all his family members that died too. It's all a load of bull fed to kids to make 'em feel better about people dying."

I couldn't even respond to that. I didn't know what to say. It should make me angry, but it didn't. It should upset me, but it didn't.

"Cut it out, Doug." Nick told him, stepping closer to me. I'm not sure he realized he did it, but he did.

"No. She ought to know. She's just like the rest of us. I'm just giving you a heads up so the next time it happens you don't waste your time praying to someone who doesn't like you." Dougie told me. And with that, he lit up another cigarette and didn't say another word. Garrett looked at John. John looked back at Dougie. Dougie looked up at him through his thick eyelashes, but didn't say anything. He should be ashamed, but he wasn't. I couldn't even be mad at him. I just wondered what made him say that. I could tell he was hurt.

"You okay?" Nick whispered so low, only I could hear it. I just nodded and he smiled. A big smile with perfect teeth in straight rows across. I smiled back and my mom showed up.

"I'll see you guys later."

"Those your friends?" my mom asked me as we drove away. John smiled as I passed him. I smiled back. "Yeah."


	3. Don't

At home, things were slow and quiet. Andy came home from work at six and we had dinner. None of us ate together. Mom at the computer while she typed quickly, stopping every now and then to take a bite from her sandwich or drink some water. Andy sat in front of the television watching some stupid sitcom. I took my plate to my room and finished some homework. Times like these I missed my dad. I pulled out the picture of him I kept in my desk drawer and I stared at it. My dad was really handsome. He had blonde hair like mine and a tiny bit of stubble lining his jaw, at least he did in this picture. He had perfect white teeth without ever needing braces. I missed him. When he was around, we were a family. We all dropped what we were doing to have a dinner together. He made sure of it. No matter how busy any of us were, he'd make sure to take time out to have a family dinner and just talk. I think that's what I missed the most. Now we were all scattered. Not really a family at all.  
Tears stung my eyes as I remembered what Dougie had said to me. I didn't want to believe what he said was true. It hurt thinking about it. I fell asleep with that thought in my mind and dad's picture in my hand.

The next morning I walked into English expecting the same treatment I got from Garrett yesterday. I told myself that morning, Dakota don't expect him to talk to you. Don't expect him to say hi.

But he did.

"Hey, California," he smiled as I took my seat. He turned around and straddled his chair, resting his arms on the back of it so he could face me. I smiled, "Hey."

"You're fifteen right?" he asked me. I nodded, "I'll be sixteen in a month."

"Damn," he laughed. "I'm still the youngest."

I smiled, "When's your birthday?"

"Not till February," he told me looking disappointed. I gave him a sympathetic grin, "Hey, someone's gotta be the baby."

He laughed and nodded, then quickly changed the subject. I had talked to other kids in some of my other classes, but Garrett was the first one besides Heather to hold a conversation with me as if he liked me.

Heather sat down and I smiled at her then continued my conversation with Garrett. Heather shot me a dirty glance. I ignored it seeing as I didn't do anything wrong. When Mrs. Whitman told us to find a partner for a worksheet, Garrett immediately turned around and smiled at me. I knew all the answers. He just copied them down. I didn't mind though. I liked Garrett. I liked having a friend. I looked up and saw Heather and her cheerleader friends eying me. I blew the eraser dust off my paper and kept scribbling down answers for Garrett to copy.

The bell rang and Garrett said bye and thanks for the answers, then he bolted out of the room. Heather caught up with me on my walk to study hall. "Are you and Nickelsen friends?" she asked me.

I shrugged, "I don't know. I mean I talk to him every now and then but –"

"Don't." she warned and walked away.

Why were people suddenly warning me about things I didn't want to hear.

John wasn't in study hall today. I nearly made myself sick wondering where he could be. I shouldn't care so much.

Lunch came and went slowly. The past two days I sat with Heather and her friends. They liked me and they were nice to me. Today, there were no seats left. They all shot me dirty glances. No one offered me a seat. I walked to the other side of the lunch room.

And right in the corner by the vending machines I saw a familiar face. I slowly walked toward him to make sure he wasn't going to ignore me like everyone else did yesterday. When I got close enough, he looked up and smiled. I smiled back and he waved me over. A wave of relief crashed over me. I didn't want to be sitting alone.

"Didn't want to eat alone, California?" he laughed. I shook my head and laughed, "How'd you know?"

"I saw you wandering around over there alone. Saw you got rejected by those cheerleaders," he laughed, "Ouch."

"Yeah, a real blow to the ego," I smiled back sarcastically. I was glad Alex was talking to me. He and Garrett didn't ignore me which was a good sign. Did this make us friends or not?

"Mind if I sit down?" I asked him.

"Oh I don't mind," he shook his head, "You probably should though."

I wondered what he meant by that, but I sat anyway. He ate his chips quietly for a while, shoveling four or five into his mouth at once. I laughed. He looked up and shouted across the cafeteria with his mouth full. I looked back and saw Nick coming to our table. He waved to Alex and smiled, then took a seat next to him. He noticed me and shot Alex a nervous glance. Alex just shrugged and his eyes fell back to his chips as if they were the most interesting thing on the planet. I picked at my thumb nail.

"You're alright with sitting here?" Nick asked me. I looked up.

"Should I not be?"

Neither of them answered. They simply changed the subject and just like that I was hypnotized again. I forget about the weirdness and just had fun. It was nice to have friends.

"Do you guys know where John'O is today?" I asked casually during the silence between different conversations. Nick looked at Alex. Alex looked back at me. "Yeah."

And with that the bell rang and we all filed out of lunch. I lost the guys in the crowd and ended up alone for the rest of the day. Not even the cheerleader drones would talk to me. Something was wrong.


	4. Once You're In, You're In

**Four**

After school I didn't see Nick, Garrett, Alex or Dougie. I did see John though. Same way I always see him. Across the street up against a building, a cigarette in his hand. I hurried across the street but he didn't notice me until I spoke.

"Where were you today?"

"Out," he said, smoke coming out of his mouth. He pulled off his sunglasses and looked down at me. "Do you want to go for a walk?"  
I looked at my cell phone. As if John had read my text before I did, my mom had suggested I walk home because she was going to be late. I nodded, "Sure."

We walked along the street quiet and slow. Neither of us said much. "Does my smoking bother you?" he asked out of nowhere. I looked up at the sound of his voice. He gave me a beautiful half grin. "That was rude of me not to ask."

"No," I told him, "You're fine."

But he dropped it and ground it out with his heal anyway. "Explain something to me," I asked him.

"Depends on what you need explained," he replied.

"Dougie," I told him. The corners of his mouth turned down and he stared at the sidewalk.

"You listen to me. Don't worry about what Dougie says to you, alright? Don't let him get to you. He likes scaring people into believing things he wants them to. He's hard and he's cold and he likes it that way. Don't listen to him."

"Why?" I asked.

"It's probably not something I should be talking about," he mumbled. I nodded and respected that.

"So explain something else to me then," I pressed. He coughed once, then looked back at me. "I'll try."

I paused, trying to think of the way I wanted to word this. I said the only thing I could really think of asking. "What are you?"

He laughed. Apparently he found this amusing. First it was just a wide grin, then a small chuckle. But soon he was doubled over in hysterics. His arms clutched his skinny stomach and tears rolled down his cheeks. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as his laughter died.

"Are you finished?" I asked, slightly annoyed. He caught his breath and nodded.

"Why is this so funny to you?" I asked him. He just grinned at me as if he were to start another fit of laughter at any moment.

"John " I whined, "This isn't funny "

"To you," he said, "But to me...."

"Come on, John. Answer me." I pressed. We kept walking as a smile kept playing on his lips. "I'm a person, what do you want me to say?"

Such a simple answer, but he knew there was more behind the question I asked him. He took a deep breath, then sighed, "I know what you're asking. I know you want an answer."

"So tell me," I demanded. He stared at the ground and shook his head, "Dakota, it just isn't that easy."

"Sure it is," I shrugged, "You explain this to me. Explain to me why none of you talked to me after the first day we talked. Explain to me why Heather shot me dirty looks as if I had personally offended her while I talked to Garrett. Explain to me why Alex was so nervous to let me sit with him and Nick at lunch today."

He just stared at me. I was getting frustrated. "I need some answers."

John sighed heavily and ran his hand through his messy brown hair. "Dakota...."

"John'O please," I pouted, thinking maybe it'd work. He gave me a half grin. I smiled back. It worked. I knew it.

"I'll explain the best I can," he told me as he pulled another cigarette out of his pocket. The situation must stress him out.

"See, the guys and I don't exactly have the best reputation around here. We didn't want you getting caught up in all of it until you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into. We didn't want you to miss out on an opportunity to make good friends by being seen with us first," he told me, then sighed and mumbled under his breath, "Though it looks like you already did."

"I don't understand..."

"That's why we didn't talk to you. We were nervous to be seen with you. It isn't that we don't want you around. We just don't want you to be seen like we're seen. You have a choice. You don't have to be like us. And you shouldn't." he said seriously, "You should leave, now."

"Why?" I asked him, "Why don't people like you? What do you do wrong?"

"Us?" he asked, "We don't do anything wrong."

"So why...?"

"Dakota, I'm not even supposed to be explaining all this. You're not supposed to know anything." he said.

"You told me that you didn't want me getting involved until I knew what I was getting into." I told him angrily. "How can I know what I'm getting into if you won't tell me?"

He knew I was right. I could see it by the expression on his face. I was right and he wasn't used to having people beat him at something like that. He reluctantly finished his explanation as vague as he possibly could. I listened as intently as I could without actually taking notes.

"Around here, gangs have been worse than ever. Gang violence is getting worse, people are getting killed. We've all seen it. Alex, Nick, Dougie, Garrett and I have seen the worst of it, especially last year. Rival gangs shoot rival gangs and families fall apart."

"So you are a gang then?" I asked.

"Don't interrupt!" he joked. I laughed and shut up and he kept talking. "The five of us, we're seen as a gang. The worst of everyone really. No one likes us, no one is allies with us. Everyone is against us."

"Why?" I asked him.

"We're...kind of the peacekeepers in all this. We don't want people getting shot and killed. The five of us can get information on any gang fight at any time at least 24 hours before it even happens. We try and stop it before it happens."

I understood. No one wanted the gang violence to stop. That's why everyone was against John and his friends. It made sense.

"But I don't get it." I shook my head, "It's none of your business. Why do you care if people are killing each other over all this? You don't know them."

"So?" he asked, "All of us have known people who have gotten caught up in this. You heard me earlier. It tears families apart at the seams." He was getting mad. Raising his voice without even realizing he was doing it. "Why do you think Dougie is the way he is now? Because he likes being hard and cold and disliked? Dougie's the way he is because Dougie doesn't want to get attached. To anyone. To anything. Dougie doesn't want to get attached because Dougie doesn't want to lose someone again."

And suddenly everything he said the other day to me made sense. I felt sick. John kept talking.

"You want to help us, fine. We like you Dakota. Even Dougie. He may not come off like he does, but trust me. He does. We'd like to have you around. Honest. Just know what you're getting into. And I mean it. Think long and hard about this." John stopped and stared me straight in the eye, "You don't have to do this. You have a choice. The guys and I, we were forced into this. You don't need to be. It's dangerous and it's a hard way to live and I would suggest turning your back now and never talking to me or Doug or Alex or Nick or Garrett ever again. I would suggest running. Crying to your friends telling them I hurt you, bad. It's better that way. But if you want this, take it. Just know that once you're in, you're in."

And just like that, I was in.


	5. Fire Crackers are Loud

**Five**

John and I kept walking. Turns out he only lived about four blocks from where I lived. We got to his house first. It was a small two story house. Small and white with paint chipping from the front porch. It had a basketball hoop hanging from the garage. John looked and me and kind of smiled. "Yeah...this is my house."

I just smiled at him. "You can come in if you want. Get a drink or something. We've walked kind of far."

I followed him inside. His kitchen was cluttered when we got in. Plastic bags filled with groceries were on the floor and all the cupboards were open. John's mom, or who I assumed to be his mom, was putting things away.

"Hi ma," John smiled and leaned down to kiss his mom on the cheek. He towered over her making her look small and fragile. "This is Dakota. She just moved here. This is my mom." he turned to me. I smiled.

"Hi Dakota," she smiled. John led me out of their small kitchen and up a staircase, through a hallway, then into a bedroom. His bedroom I assumed. There was an unmade bed pushed up against the far wall and a desk against the wall by the door. Next to the desk was a mini fridge and he pulled two sodas out of it, tossing one to me. "Thanks."

We sat quietly for a minute sipping our drinks. He flopped on his bed and I stood against the wall. "Your mom. Does she know?"

John just shook his head. He knew what I was asking. "No one does. No one's supposed to."

I knew he was still bitter about me being in on all this. I asked him why.

"I don't get why you'd want this." he shrugged. "I certainly don't. But it's a way of life at this point. Something I can't just give up."

"I want this because I like you guys. You're good friends." I told him. "You seem like good people."

He laughed dryly. "Good people. Sure. Take a survey of a hundred random people in the school and maybe you'd change your answer."

"I don't care what everyone else says, John." I told him seriously. "I like you. Your intentions are good, I can see that."

"So why can't you see that from far away? Why can't you see that without helping us?"

"You already spilled all your secrets to me about what this is," I told him, "You can't expect me to just walk away."

"You do realize if you tell anyone, we're done right?" he asked. I stared at him blankly. "You and me. We're finished. You tell anyone what I told you today and we can no longer be friends."

"I was never going to tell anyone," I told him, hurt he'd even think that.

"I'm just warning you."

I walked home after that. I told Mrs. O'Callaghan it was nice to meet her and I walked home wrapped in my thoughts. I could see why John was angry. I could see why he wouldn't trust me. I decided I was going to prove to him he could trust me.

Mom and Andy were fighting when I got home. It happened a lot more lately. I'm not sure what they were fighting about, but I knew it was serious this time, not just one of those dumb I-need-attention fights. I think Andy was drinking again.

I spent the rest of the night in my room with my stereo on. I worked on some homework and when it was dark, I heard my mom come up the stairs and go into her bedroom. Andy wasn't with her. I assumed he had either left, or was sleeping on the couch. He deserved either.

I opened my window and crawled out onto the roof, hugging my knees close to my chest. I pulled my hood up over my ears. It was getting cold here. I'm not used to it. I'm not used to anything around here. I crawled back inside to get a blanket and I wrapped it around me. I sat quietly on the roof and stared out at the street. I stared at the perfect circles that the street lights illuminated on the black surface of the street. I stared at the world in the dark. I like the dark. It hid imperfections.

Saturday morning. I woke up alone. I wasn't surprised. What was surprising was seeing John on my couch with the morning paper in his lap when I walked down my stairs.

"You should really keep your back door locked." Was all he said. I couldn't respond. I just turned around and took a shower and got dressed. I went back downstairs. John was still reading and sipping his coffee. He looked like a forty year old man. I smiled.

"Are you ready, or can I finish the sports section?" he asked. Again, I said nothing. He got up and we left.

John's car was white. It had four doors and the interior was pretty torn up. He'd tried to fix it with duct tape. But he had a car. And that's all that mattered.

Garrett rode shotgun. No one complained. He rolled down the window and practically stuck his head out it. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging and his tongue would be hanging stupidly out of his mouth. Garrett reminded me of a puppy. A Beagle maybe, or a Lab.

Alex, Doug, Nick and I crammed in the back of the car. I was between Alex and the window. I sat quietly seeing as I had no idea where we were going or what we were doing. They told me not to ask. I didn't. We drove into parts of town I've never been before. I stared out the window and watched the world pass by in a blur. Everything was in focus when we stopped. John stepped out of the car. We waited inside.

He was talking to another kid around his age. The kid was tall, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He had on a plain white t-shirt and torn jeans. He was intimidating. Huge. Muscular. Scary. John shook his hand. The kid greeted John as "Tyler" and throughout the conversation, that's what he was called.

John has different names. He was a different person in a different place. I sat there and wondered if that's possible. Could you go to another place and become a completely different person. Could you start over. Could you be someone else.

John was.

The kid pointed and gave directions, then John got back in the car. We all drove in silence. I watched the world pass by in a blur. Always a blur.  
Firecrackers were loud. Gunshots were louder.

It all happened in slow motion. Everything happened like we were running in water. You try to move fast but the water holds you back.

"Lay on the floor," John told me. Bubbles came out of his mouth and the words were a garbled mess under water. But I understood. I swam to the bottom of the car, and the rest of the guys put their feet on top of me. They held their breath and ducked down, putting their hands over their heads. Glass shattered and floated through the water and down onto my back. Three pieces cut my hand, my arm, my face. Blood turned the water red. I was losing breath.

Everything happens in slow motion under water.

Water was drained from the car and things started to happen in regular speed once I wrapped my mind around what was going on. Someone shot at us. Shattered a window. Nick and Doug and Alex had this legs across my back to protect me. John was driving and tiny little Garrett was in the front seat. I couldn't move because the guys were on my back and I couldn't hear over the shouting and I couldn't tell who was shouting and if anyone was in pain. I didn't know anything.

Water filled the car.

Everything happened in slow motion.

I was losing my breath.

Inhale.

Water fills my lungs.

Exhale.

Everything goes black.


	6. You're A Mess

**Six**

When you want people to believe that accidents happen and not all people in the world are bad, you lie.

"Car crash," were the only words I hear when I wake up. I'm in the hospital, and there's John with a swollen lip, and a cut eye telling the doctor about the "accident" we had gotten into. I took a breath and felt a sharp pain in my side. I swallowed hard and looked at the damage. My arm had a cut from my elbow to nearly my wrist. It was stitched up. My lower chest was bandaged. I could feel my face was swollen. I guess it could be worse. John entered my hospital room and I looked up at him.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"You wanted this," he reminded me, "You're in. Remember that."

"What happened?" I demanded.

"You can't back out," he reminded me, "You wanted this."

"What happened?" I demanded.

"We were shot at," he answered simply, looking over the stitches on his hand.

"Why?"

"Listen, I'm gonna go check on Garrett," he told me and he left all my questions unanswered.

Cold sweat. Panic.

I was in. Choices were taken away. I was in.

I wanted this.

Nick and Alex and Doug walked into my room. The three of them were alright. A few minor scratches and bruises. Why is it that I was the one on the ground yet I was the one who was in the worst conditions?

"You crawled to the ground right as the bullet hit the window," Nick explained to me, "The glass exploded and hit you as you fell to the floor of the car."

"When the other car hit us, the impact of it threw all of our weight forward. Which is probably why your ribs hurt," Alex finished for him. Their feet crushed my chest. Doug stood quietly feeling the stitched up hole in his cheek.

"What happened to Garrett?" I asked. They stood quietly. Doug spoke up.

"The bullet came through his window," he told us. My heart dropped. Garrett with a bullet through his arm, his chest, his head. Tears filled my eyes.

"Quit crying." Doug told me. He left.

And I cried.

I sobbed.

My mom came inside and when she saw me crying she started crying. She asked me what happened and she instantly turned on John and his friends. She assumed it was their fault.

When people don't want to accept that bad things happen, they look for someone to blame.

"No mom, you've got it all wrong." I told her, "They had nothing to do with this. If anything they protected me from getting hurt any worse. I owe them."

"I'm just glad you're all right," she told me.

I wasn't all right. I was a mess.

John walked back in messing with his stitches. Being the mother that she is, my mom told him to stop or it would get infected. He dropped his hands to his sides.

"What happened to Garrett?" I insisted. I insisted John tell me what was wrong with him. John just told me the doctors were letting me leave today and that I should go with my mom. Angry tears filled my eyes. Hurt tears. Scared tears. I demanded to know what was wrong. I was told to come back tomorrow.

The easiest way to cope with bad news is to procrastinate.

Sunday morning was slow and it was tiring. It was rainy and dull. I hated every minute of it. My mom kept asking how I was feeling. I lied. I said, fine mom. I'm fine.

Really.

I slept all day Sunday. I didn't eat. I couldn't eat. I only got up when my mom told me I had a visitor. She opened my door and John walked in my room. My mom gave me that look like she knew John was up here and she had her eye on us. As if I was really going to have sex with John in my bedroom while she and Andy were home.

My mom left and John walked to my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Take me to see Garrett." I demanded.

John won't give in to pleas. John will give into demands. John helped me to the car. It still hurt to breathe in. The car ride was quiet. John rolled down the window and smoke a cigarette. John never liked smoking around me. He was stressed.

Hospitals were depressing. But they felt like home to me. When my dad had cancer, I spent almost every waking moment in a hospital. I was used to it. We took the elevator to the floor with Garrett's room on it. I was afraid of what I'd see.

"I'll wait here," John told me. He stood in the hallway and I slowly walked into Garrett's room. I didn't want to see him hurt.

He gave me a weak smile, "Hi Dakota."

He was a mess. A swollen up face, a few teeth missing. His hair was matted to his forehead, sweaty and still had some dry blood caked on it. I choked back tears.

"How ya feeling?" I asked. He shrugged, "Could be worse."

Could be worse. Though it didn't seem like it, it really could be worse. Garrett's heart could have stopped beating. They could have found us in that car and Garrett could have not had a pulse. Garrett could be dead.

I nodded. I wanted to know where the bullet hit him. I wanted to know if he'd been shot and where and how bad. I wanted to know he was alright.

As if he read my mind. "You know the bullet never hit me."

A weight fell off my shoulders. "But glass did. And when that other car slammed into us I fell against the dashboard and smashed my face in."

"Garrett, you're a mess." I told him. He just shrugged. "I think I look like a hardass."

John took me home after that. Garrett was fifteen. Garrett was shot at. Garrett could have been killed.

Garrett didn't care as long as he looked tough. Innocence was the key to getting through this. How long till we lost it all?

Monday morning. First hour English. Garrett was at school stitched up and healing. No one bothered to ask what happened. No one cared enough to ask.

People were so judgmental.

"Feeling okay?" I asked him when I sat down. He nodded and messed with the stitches in his lip and just like my mom, I told him to stop or it would get infected. His hands fell to his desk.

Fifth hour. Geometry. I couldn't concentrate. Shapes were just meaningless symbols to me drawn with chalk on a black wall. I didn't care about what was written.

After you're out of a state of panic, everything feels numb to you.

School let out and I followed John and Alex and Nick and Garrett and Doug across the street. I walked home every day now. It was a way of life. They were my family. And we looked like walking dead people with our cuts and our stitches and our black eyes and bruises. And people stared and people asked and we were comfortable with ourselves. When something becomes a way of life, you just stop thinking about it. Everything's numb.


	7. Drop It

**Seven**

"Dakota " Someone was actually shouting my name. I counted everyone I was with in my head. Five boys, my only friends. Who else would want my attention?

I turned around. John turned around too. And there she was. Heather, running after us with her friends standing not too far away. And she was waving her arm so I'd see her.

Months of neglect, and now you want my attention? Here I am.

"Yeah?" I asked. She motioned for me to go with her. I started walking and John followed. Heather eyed him, and nodded towards him silently saying she wanted him gone. I turned to him. "I'll be right back."

John just turned to Heather. "You have two minutes."

She scoffed at him and put her hands on her hips, "What are you, her body guard?"

"One minute and fifty seven seconds." John checked his watch. Heather rolled her eyes and grabbed my wrist.

"Listen, we heard about the accident," she told me, all sympathetic like. "Are you okay?"

Accident. That word was used too often. This was no accident. I wanted to tell her people were after John. People shot at John. It was no accident.

"I'm fine," I told her. She eyed the stitches in my arm. I ran my tongue along the cut on my lip.

"Those guys are bad news, Dakota," she told me. "Why are you hanging around them?"

I shrugged. There were a lot of reasons. None of which I could explain. So I shrugged. Plain and simple and it answered nothing, but it kept me from speaking.

"I bet it was no accident." Heather assumed, "He hurt you didn't he?"

"If John only wanted to hurt me," I said, "Why would he also have stitches in his hand and on his face?"

"Maybe he wanted to make it look convincing. As if there really was an accident." One of the cheerleaders shrugged. I laughed. "Sure, okay. Explain Garrett. John wouldn't do that to Garrett. It was a car accident. Happens every day."

"My brother's heard about John," Another girl spoke up, "I'll bet he was drunk, wasn't he?" I just laughed again.

"And what has your brother heard? That John enjoys messing people up." I shook my head, "You people have no idea."

People were so judgmental.

"Fifteen seconds," And John was right next to us. He came out of nowhere. Everyone just stared at him, silently. "If it's alright with you, we'll be leaving now."

They all nodded. John began to walk away and Heather grabbed my wrist. "If he ever hurts you, let us know. Kay?"

I laughed.

"What did she want?" John asked as we caught up with everyone else. I looked back at Heather. "The same thing I wanted the day I got here."

"And what's that?" John asked.

"Answers."

Before I meet John, I was always home on time. I always let my mom know where I'd be. I always called.

I can't afford to keep calling. We made runs all around the city just meeting up with people and every person knew John as a different person. To kids at our school, John was just John'O. The bad guy.

To kids who went to other schools, usually public schools like ours, John was Tyler. And when John was Tyler, we usually had something serious on our hands. Like a kid with a gun ready to paint every building in this city with someone else's brains.

Today John was Tyler and today I feared for my life. I sat in the back seat between Alex and Doug shaking. Alex laughed. "You gonna be okay?"

Is this something you just get used to? Is this something you stop thinking about?

"It gets easier," Doug told me as if he read my mind. His voice was low and monotone like always. I felt like he hated me. We started driving and everything passed around us in a blur.

Always a blur.

We pulled into a back ally and we parked the car. I actually had to get out of the car this time. Hyperventilation commence. Alex laughed at me and slung an arm around my shoulder, "Calm down, will ya?"

"How do you just laugh about this?" I asked him. He smiled, "I live for this stuff. It's exciting in a life threatening kind of way, ya know?"

"Oh, yes. I live for risking death." I said, sarcasm dripping from every word. Alex just laughed. We walked behind a tall building, and there he was. This kid, maybe seventeen years old was backed up against the building, sweat dripping down his face, his eyes squeezed shut. Inches from his face was the end of a gun. And holding that gun was a kid maybe eighteen years old. His jaw was clenched and his finger was on the trigger. When he saw John, he jumped.

"You take so much as a step closer and I was blow his fucking brains out," Gunboy, said. The other kid tensed up and tears fell down his cheek. John reached into his pocket. "You don't drop that gun and I'll do the same."

And out of John's pocket came that handheld killer. John's gun reflected the other kid's gun. The fear in my eyes reflected the fear of everyone else's fear. Gunboy moved his gun from the other kid's face.

"Drop it," John said slowly. He put his finger on the trigger and Gunboy swallowed hard. John moved closer and pinned Gunboy against the wall. His fingers uncurled and the gun dropped to the concrete. John kicked it aside and moved away. Gunboy tried to run and John grabbed him by the sleeve, "Do it again and we'll find you. Got it."

Gunboy just swallowed hard. "Got it?" John screamed. He nodded nervously and John shoved him, sending him running in the opposite direction. The other kid was sitting on the concrete ground, trying to catch his breath and collect himself before anyone noticed he was crying. John grabbed the cloth of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. "You okay?"

The kid nodded and wiped his face. John just stood next to him frowning. "You got a name?"

He nodded. John looked at him, "Well?"

"James," the kid stuttered. John nodded, "You live around here?"

James nodded again.

"Want a ride home?"

James shook his head.

"Yes you do," John said, grabbing his wrist, "You don't want to be back out on these streets by yourself again, do you? Come with us."

James followed us back to the car. I walked with him. Seeing him that shaky made me nervous. I asked him calmly if he was alright and if there was anyone he wanted us to call. He just said no, take me home. I asked if he was hurt. No, take me home. We drove him to his house and John made sure one more time he was okay. He just nodded. John handed him a slip of paper and said if anyone messes with you, let us know. James nodded and ran inside.

We drove home in silence after that.


End file.
